The Force Legacy Saga Part 1: Relics of Fate
by CorrinWyndryder
Summary: Dais Wyndryder and Terran Palteth must retrieve the Codex before the Imperial Remnant can use it for their evil purposes.
1. Prologue: Forgotten Histories

"It is finished." I say, not to anyone in particular. The monument of our histories is built. The Great Library. Here I will spend the rest of my days meditating in solitude. Such is the conclusion of the life I led. My hand gently caresses the old cloth sack hanging on my belt. Out of habit I suppose.

Carefully I walk the steps gapping the distance between the shrine and the library. I look down. I shouldn't have done that. The cavernous depths seem to stretch on forever. I closed my eyes and stood completely still. Calm. Calm fills me to my core. It flows through me and within me. I am at peace.

The maze of platforms held in the air by the Force winds though the great cavern. Mighty stalagmites greater than the tallest Kashyyyk trees drop down around the platforms. One of them drops down before me; a tunnel had to be cut through it.

At the end of the maze, I enter the shrine. Simple, a pedestal stands at the end of a long room. Quietly, I approach it. It's so plain, hardly worthy of what it will hold. Then again, neither was I.

My hand grips the sack while gently untying the frayed leather cord. I reverently unwrap the cord and open the sack. The Codex, a small stone, not even a decameter in height, it seems so deceptively plain. I touch its smooth surface.

The Force, an energy field binding all things together, flows through me. More then I've ever felt. And all at once, I see. I understand. I comprehend. I know. My mind clears and for an eternity, for an instant, I know how all things are connected, as one, and I cannot help but regret that I cannot ever put what I know into words. Basic is too limited a language. Words…

I let go of the artifact, the Codex, and it rests on the pedestal. The enlightenment leaves me, and I feel a part of my mind go with it. How long will it stay there; Decades, Centuries, Millenia? Will it ever be found? Should it be? Thoughts like this stews within my mind as I leave the dangerous relic behind.

A familiar face greets me as I reenter the Great Library. Taboon, my old and dear friend, I see him approach me. His metal stave bangs on the stone floors and echoes through the halls. Fondly, I remember his red robes adorned with Frah-Zhahan trinkets. I suppose this may be the last time we see each other, so I try to remember every detail.

"Walk in Balance, Joah-Quin." a Frah-Zhahan greeting. It amazes me to think how fully he's adopted a culture and way of life that has been dead for millenia. "This day was a long time coming."

"Indeed it was. Do you know where you'll be going?"

"Yes, but I fear it may be a mistake."

"What do you mean?"

"To take this artifact and hide it there for so long, the Tya will be poisoned forever. How can I make that kind of decision?"

"The decision was already made. Our future depends on it."

"How many times have we done this? How many times have we parted ways, just to have events repeat themselves? How many more times must we do this?"

"As many times as necessary." He seems to relent that point. Something bothers him. Perhaps the prolonged possession of that damned artifact has affected him. Hopefully once he has hidden it, he will return to balance. "We will meet again."

He nods. We both hope I'm right. From this point on, neither of us really knows where we will go from here. "It is time for me to be rid of this thing. I have felt its influence for far to long." What a wretched fate, to be in possession of that cursed Dark Side thing. Whatever possessed their creators to make it, I'll never know. I am surprised when he reaches into the pockets sewn into his robes and produces two smooth spherical stones. "Take these. They will protect the Codex."

"What are they?"

"A precaution."

I nod, it would be unfit of me to press further. "Take the worker droids with you. They will help you build the shrine. I will send you 3-KHK once I have finished with him." Behind me, the droid seems to acknowledge his name, but realizes I'm not addressing him. "May the Force be with you, Taboon."

"Walk in Balance, Joah-Quin." He bows and walks away. I will miss him.

Chink. Chink. Chink. The halls echo with the sound of my stave pounding the stone floors. The sound is hollow and empty, like me. I know these thoughts come from the imbalance caused by this relic I hold, but I cannot help myself. What is it all for? Is it even worth it anymore?

I walk though the great hall. Statues erected of great and powerful Jedi and Sith alike, names who in time will be entirely forgotten. Along the walls, hieroglyphs of great and terrible battles, histories doomed to repeat themselves. Who will remember the Destruction of the Calmirian Temple, The Great Sith Insurgence of Coruscant, or The Overthrow of the Settian Dynasty? No one will. That's who. Wars costing thousands of lives, nay millions, none remembered. How can I bear this burden?

Joah-Quin got out of this the easy way. His burden was the Codex, the Frah-Zhahan artifact of Light. I hate him. His spirit gets the enlightenment while mine must struggle with the Dark Side. He tricked me into taking this cursed thing. He knew I would suffer like this. I should make him suffer.

NO! I do not turn around. I keep going. Such thoughts are the price I agreed to pay when I swore to hide this artifact. It calls to me. It does not wish to be hidden. But it is not the relic's fault. The Dark Side flows strongly through it. It tips the scales, it imbalances me. I must fight it a little longer.

Worker droids efficiently store their tools and prepare to join me. They will build a similar monument to store this, the Addius Vaquila, the relic that has caused so much pain, and will cause it again.

I leave this Great Library built by my friend, and board a large transport. I look over the flat plans of Nandooith, marveling at its vastness. Its single moon dances its dance with the sun across the sky. What changes with the Codex wrought upon the face of this planet after a few centuries of its presense? Who knows?

As we leave the planet, I look out a window. A small nebula seems to have formed in the distance. I marvel at its splendor, or at least, I try to. The Addius Vaquila seems to take all my joys from me. I wish for nothing more than to be rid of it once and for all.

The worker droids have left with Master Taboon to a planet I will be sent to as soon as my work here is finished. I'm sure the Jedi Council had good reason to send me, their chief expert on Holocron design, to this desolate place. Master Joah-Quin seems distracted. It would be best to let him be for the time being.

All the work on the Great Library has been completed according to Master Joah-Quin's specifications. Of course, why any Jedi would choose to honor the Sith side by side with the Jedi is beyond my understanding. I'm sure it's for a good reason. I will cease computing this thought stream.

The Holocron's activation matrix is the largest I have ever seen. I'm much more used to the portable handheld models. I wonder how long I will be here. There must be tons of data Master Joah-Quin needs to store in this vault. I will place this thought stream on hold until further data has been inputted.

I decide it is time to engage conversation with Master Joah-Quin, even though his distraction has not ceased for several minutes. "Master Joah-Quin, I am ready at your convenience to begin the Holocron recording process."

"Yes, yes. Thank you 3-KHK. I will be with you in a moment." the Jedi replies. Perhaps I was premature with my decision to engage conversation. The Jedi are so polite with their responses, it is hard to tell genuine sincerity from feigned sincerity. But that is their way, and nothing I can say or do will ever alter this fact. I will cease computing this thought stream.

I observe Master Joah-Quin walking slowly around the Library. His distraction appears more evident. It is most fortunate that the Jedi saw fit to program me with incredible allowances of patience for behavioral idiosyncrasies of organic life forms; otherwise I may find myself upset by the delay I am faced with. I wonder if the Jedi programmed me to think this way? If they did it was most likely for good reason. I elect not to investigate my programming.

My master's behavior seems to return to normal. I wonder if he was trying to access his organic memory center. I understand remembering things for organics can take a considerably long time. How inefficient. I prepare to accept oral input from my master.

"I am ready. Let's begin." He tells me. I instantly open up my database for Holocron data input. I have to admit, it is quite extensive. I hope my master has the patience necessary to complete this task.

"Master Joah-Quin, please stand on the platform. The holo-image recorders have been activated." I am pleased when he obeys. Not all organics are so compliant. It is fortunate my particular specialty demands a level of respect. He stands there for a mere moment before I notice this must be his first time creating a Holocron. This could take some time. I reinitialize my patience routine, I have a feeling I'm going to need it. "When you are ready, record your greeting." I am surprised by the level of detail he chose to exhibit.

"Greetings, friends. I am Joah-Quin, Jedi Master of the High Council, Scholar of the Frah-Zhah, and Guardian of the Codex. Do I have the honor of addressing Master Palteth or Master Wyndryder?"


	2. Chapter 1: Old Wounds

CHAPTER 1: Old Wounds.

Yavin IV. Forth moon in the Yavin system. Once the location of the hidden base of operations for the Rebel Alliance. Historically remembered for the battle against the Empire resulting in the heroic destruction of the first Death Star. Home of the Masassi temple ruins. And now the home of the new Jedi Academy.

So much history here. Sometimes I find it soothing to simply walk the great stone halls of these ancient ruins. I could use some relaxation right about now. It has been fifteen years since the death of Emperor Palpatine. Peace and order should have been restored with the forming of the New Republic. Instead, all we have is political turmoil and civil unrest. What a mess. I do not envy my sister her task in the senate.

If things were more organized, we would not be faced with the threats the Imperial Remnant continues to pose. It seems that for every peace agreement we make with one faction, two more fight against us. If they had a unified voice that we could convince we want peace, it would be so much easier.

But they're beginning to have a unified voice. And he does not want peace. It was so much easier with the Galactic Empire to decide right from wrong. Now we must decide which evil is more preferable. Do we act, or do we wait? We must wait. And for every hour we wait, his Remnant grows stronger.

Unfortunately, I cannot allow myself to wait any longer. His activities have brought to light a dangerous possibility. He is searching for something. Something he must not be allowed to have. I don't exactly know what it is, but I know someone who does.

In the west wing of the Jedi Academy, in an amphitheater seated classroom, an old friend teaches ancient Jedi history. He would know. I open the door quietly and mask my presence. I do enjoy walking in on his classes. He does have a flair for the dramatic.

"The Frah-Zhahans teach us that a society can successfully exist while believing in a balance of the Light and Dark Sides of the Force. Why did their society not turn against itself, as the nature of the Dark Side?" I pose this question with projected voice that grips the attention of everyone in the room. I acknowledge a student who raised their hand.

"Perhaps they did from time to time, but the constant presence of the Light Side kept it in check."

"Then what happens when the Light Side overwhelms the Dark Side? Would that not also throw the scales of balance?" He starts to question himself. Good. In a debate of ethics no one should have all the answers, not even I. Another hand.

"Their society did not turn on itself because of the methods they used to harness the Force."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, they used artifacts to channel the Tya for their needs. They did not develop the metaphysical sensitivities to the Force that the Jedi and other religions have. Therefore, the Dark Side did not tempt them the same way it tries to tempt us."

"Excellent theory. Would anyone care to rebuttal?" He smiles and looks around for a reply. I'm interested to see if someone can come up with that. That's when I notice Master Skywalker in my classroom.

"The Frah-Zhah had more than simple trinkets that called upon the Force to do menial tasks on their whim. Their early histories were filled with wars fought with these artifacts. The temptation was there. But you're partly right. They could put away their trinkets if the lure of the Dark Side became too strong. We cannot simply put our power away. We must constantly live with it. And no one can walk the path of Frah-Zhahn Balance without falling to the Dark Side."

Everyone in the room stands and bows respectfully to Master Skywalker. I smile. He has studied my research. Something no-one in this class has yet to do. A pity, really. Then suddenly I recognize the look on master Skywalker's face. Something serious has happened, or rather, is about to happen.

"Very good, Master Skywalker. I see someone reads my research material." I let that comment sting the collective conscience of my students a moment. "Class dismissed." The noise of students standing, gathering their study materials, and shuffling out of the room is nearly deafening, but soon, nothing but silence. Something in Luke's stride told me there was great weight on his shoulders. Now is not the time for jovial remarks. The sounds of his footfalls echo through the empty chamber. "What is on your mind, Master?"

"Master Palteth, I am faced with a most disturbing decision. I trust you are informed with the situation regarding the Remnant."

"That depends. Are you referring to public knowledge or the truth? I am well versed in both at present."

"The truth. The self-proclaimed Emperor Calmir has been linked to a number of covert inquiries regarding Frah-Zhahan artifacts. He's looking for something called the Codex. I'm not entirely versed in what this artifact is, and for security reasons, I cannot know much more than that." The Codex? I know of this artifact. But what use could a man like him do with it? "We know he's after it, and we know he cannot be permitted to have it."

"Then why not stop him? The New Republic has sufficient forces."

"The New Republic's hands are tied. We're tired of war, and many of our old allies now squabble in the senate for their share of 'rewards'."

"History has shown us that the violent overthrow of any government results in years of confusion and recovery. It is only natural that these problems would still exist with such a grand scale of government. What is it you are asking of me?"

"Officially, I can't ask this of you. This mission will not be on record and you have the right to refuse. Unfortunately, if you fail, we will disavow any knowledge of your existence."

"It is never a good thing when those words are spoken. What is the mission?"

"I need you to find a way to recover the Codex before it falls into the hands of the Remnant."

A Jedi. I am a Jedi. Am I a Jedi? How can I call myself a Jedi? How can I sit here and pretend I'm one of them. Jedi don't do the things I did. Oh my sweet Kana. What more could I have done? I did it for you, Corrin. Did I? This isn't right. When will I be forgiven? Never. How long has it been? I can't remember now. You were four years old when I let your mother die. I could have helped her. Or died trying. How old are you now, my son?

My eyes open, sharply. A cold sweat like morning dew covers my brow. Another restless meditation. Jedi shouldn't fall in love. Love clouds our judgment. Now I sit among new Jedi, Jedi taught by the Son of the Betrayer. The Son of Skywalker. Terran trusts him.

I stand up. Narrow slits of light pass through blinds covering windows. The darkness is soothing on the eyes. In the darkness, no one sees my tears. I dry my eyes. Jedi don't mourn the dead. We rejoice for those who return to the Force. It should have been me that died, not you, Kana.

The door opens. It is too bright outside. At the door all I can see is a silhouette. If my mind were clear, I could sense who it is. "Who goes there?"

"Do you not recognize me, General Wyndryder?"

"General? You have not called me that in years, General Palteth. Are we at war again?"

"Not yet, but I fear we soon may be." He looks around the room. I suppose it's clear I've been here for a while. "Still seeking answers, old friend?"

"Why does it haunt me so, Terran? Kana passed away a long time ago."

"I cannot say."

"I can't tell you how often I've heard the advice, 'Do not dwell on these things.' It's as if they think I can simply shut these memories out of my mind."

"Kana was a Jedi. At the time, you were not. Corrin needed a father. Vader would have slain all three of you if he had the chance. You did not give him that chance."

"And what of my son? He thinks I'm dead."

"Him, and the rest of the Republic. You made a choice, Dais. You chose to serve the New Republic. That is why I came to see you."

"I've been though enough, Terran. I survived the Clone Wars, the Jedi Purge, and the Galactic Civil War. All I want now is peace, and to be left alone." I turn away from my old friend. He's going to ask me to help him. He wouldn't have come here unless he knew he could convince me to go with him.

"Peace will come to an end unless you help me, Dais. Emperor Calmir has been searching for Frah-Zhahan artifacts. He is looking for the Codex. We must stop him."

"I'm sorry, old friend, I'm afraid I haven't been keeping up with your research projects. What's the Codex?"

"I am not entirely sure of its function. My texts did not seem to mention a specific task it performs. But it is listed as one of the most powerful Frah-Zhahan artifacts in their history. Master Skywalker and I agree that it must not fall into Calmir's hands."

"Then I'm sure Master Skywalker should join you, not me."

"You still do not trust him, do you?"

"You'll find it's difficult for me to trust in any Skywalker after what I've been through."

"Then trust in me, my old friend."

"I'm retired, old friend, and this time I plan to stay that way." I've said these words before, when my sense of duty tore me away from my son, shortly after the evacuation of Hoth. 'Misplaced' by the Alliance's military orphanage, they told me. Now my son moves about from place to place far too quickly for me to predict or follow.

"I need you on this. Who else could I trust with this?" Old habits die hard, I suppose. It's not like I've got anything better to do than to relive my nightmares in meditation. 'Escapism only causes old wounds to fester.' An old wisdom, now lost. Well, these wounds have festering for so long, I more harm could I do to myself?

"Try as I might, I never could say no to you. When do we leave?"


	3. Chapter 2: Strangers in the Deep

CHAPTER 2: Strangers in the Deep

The Corellian Trade Spine. One of the first hyperspace routes charted by the early space farers. Now it is one of the busiest trade routes in the Galaxy. Cargo shippers, smugglers, tourists, and refugees now use the Spine for profit and travel, wherever their destination may be.

A bounty hunter between jobs. I've got connections, but no one's willing to pay my fees anymore. Way to go, girl. You're so good, you've worked yourself out of a career. 'Asterella Nemur, she gets the job done.' This isn't what I had in mind when I started this trip.

Aboard the transport vessel _Heart of the Stars_, two unregistered refugees are anything but. Asking questions of disreputable passengers, questions they shouldn't be asking. Who are they? If the wrong people catch wind of their questions, it could cause problems, which in turn will cause me problems. We can't have that, now can we? I follow them.

They're probing for an informant, but they don't already have one. How clumsy. Law enforcement. But they carry themselves like military officers. They must be Alliance military officers looking for new work in the New Republic. Their types tend to be arrogant, hot headed, and have little understanding for gray-area crimes. Someone's going to get hurt.

The short, healthy one seems to be doing most of the asking. A few of his questions imply he had some experience with the Empire. A turncoat. It doesn't surprise me. I'm the last one to be pointing fingers when it comes to changing loyalties. Even mynocks know when to abandon ship. The tall one seems on edge. He keeps looking around. I suppose there are people in this galaxy who wouldn't know he's clearly standing guard, but most people seem inclined to avoid him. Smart.

He whispers to his companion. They deliberately do not look my way. He knows I'm watching him. How? Someone who broadcasts his motives so widely shouldn't be able to detect me. Unless they're drawing me in. This is my chance. We're stopping at Nubia within the hour. I can avoid them completely until then and they'll never find me again. Or I can stay and find out what they want. The next stop isn't for another week. I suppose I can hold out until then.

Lunch time. People start crowding the lower food court. Trouble's brewing; I can smell it. I mingle among the crowd. I am just another face, a skill that was hard to develop with a body like mine. No, it's not pride, just a fact, and one I've found useful exploiting. You have to in my line of work. The two men continue to watch each other's backs. They're up to something. Something big. I can't say what. All I can say is I have a bad feeling about all this.

I venture close enough to listen in on their conversation. Eating this gruel better be worth the conversation. My only choice is to turn my back on them. Fortunately they're not They've been searching for a Remnant insider. Are they defecting? Unlikely. They would have to be insane to switch sides so long after fighting for the Rebellion. But something isn't right. They're not as clumsy as I originally thought. They're sowing something. Gossip? No, far to hard to control. They want to be found, and by someone they're most likely unable to control. What are they up to?

"We don't have much time." The older one seems to be the subservient one. Interesting.

"We are making progress, old friend. We are attracting attention. It will not be long now."

They've stopped talking. I can't risk turning around. They're probably looking directly at me. I should walk away. They're going to be trouble. I should walk away… but I won't. I stand up. I turn around. They're gone. When did they go? Stupid! How could I be so stupid? When did they sneak past me? I thought my senses were more attuned then this. Those men are more than they appear. I shall have to be more cautious.

Somehow, I've lost my appetite. As I leave the food court, my senses appear to be working again. I'm being followed. Is it the men I've been following? I can't tell. But their intent… threatening. I knew they were trouble.

Countless corridors, some unkempt and others completely abandoned, they should serve as a good hiding place. I hide in the shadows, in a utility room. I'm a bounty hunter; I hate being hunted. Blast, they've found me. How? This isn't right, something's up. The door opens. I can see the silhouette of the older man in the door. I can't risk blaster fire. I left my silencers in my quarters. It's his own fault. I can't be responsible for what he's forced me to do.

The dagger at the back of my belt is out of its sheath and at the man's throat before he can blink. His and has my wrist? How could he be this fast? I counter with a Gremmen contortionist trick, freeing my wrist from his grasp. He takes a combat stance. Jun Pen form, forth class. What have I gotten myself into? Perhaps youth is on my side. It's my only hope. I drop into Benn Ju form. I've intrigued him. He's upped his stance to fifth class. Blast. Here we go.

He's moving faster than his age should permit. Genetically enhanced? Perhaps he's a cyborg? Perhaps not. I think I'm wearing him down. His attempts to grapple me are waning. True Jun Pen, I thought he might have had more training than this. People rarely study just one style. This will be easier than I thought.

Perhaps I should think again. His elbow just gave my skull quite a ring. That's not Jun Pen! That move was _Diving from Clouds_, a Ki Jodo seventh tier attack. He lured me into a false sense of security. I won't be falling for that again, and he knows it. He hopes I'll be dizzy. Well, better give him what he wants. My abdomen and thigh won't appreciate my ruse, but it works, he's confidant I'm losing. He's thoroughly surprised when my dagger cuts the skin on his throat. Not deep enough to kill, but more than enough to get him angry.

No, not angry. If there's something I know, it's when I've enraged my marks. He's cool, collected. That'll be hard to fight. His fist connects with my jaw. He hit me like he would another man. Most of my marks underestimate me, or would think less of themselves for striking me. I could respect this man if I weren't about to kill him. I'll have to risk it. I draw my blaster and fire.

Blast, that was bright. A flash of light nearly blinded me. I hear a hum near my ear. I know that hum. A lightsaber. I'm engaged in combat with a Jedi? This changes things. He could have used his weapon to kill me in an instant, but he didn't. Why?

The lights go on. His friend's standing at the door. He's laughing. What's he find so funny. The Jedi turns off his lightsaber and takes a step back from me. The laughing one addresses me.

"Hello, miss. You are quite elusive."

"What's this all about?" His jovial attitude's starting to piss me off.

"You tell me. Why have you been listening in on us?"

"What makes you think that?" When in doubt, deny everything. Maybe I can still talk my way out of this.

"The fact that you have been present in public areas with us consistently within twenty meters for the last day, the fact you were listening to our conversation in the mess hall, and the fact you were in here, hiding from us."

"Coincidental." I rub my jaw.

"Unlikely. Dais?"

The tall one starts talking, holding some cloth to the cut I gave him. "She used to work for the Black Sun's Guard."

"What makes you think that?"

"Benn Ju isn't taught in civilian self defense classes."

The fight, he was reading me the whole time. How could I have been so foolish? I wonder what else he's managed to glean. "What do you want from me?"

"We are in need of information," the shorter one says. Entrapment. Jedi. What could they possibly want with me?

"I gather from your current state of affairs, you are no longer affiliated with the Black Sun, but you may have informants," the one he called Dais is rather perceptive. He's a threat. "It would be in your best interest to help us, Aster." He knows who I am? Definitely a threat.

"Are you trying to intimidate me? You'll find those kinds of tactics to be ineffective."

The shorter one addresses me. "Asterella Nemur, elite hunter, High Honors of the Guild. Your reputation precedes you."

"Then you have me at a disadvantage. I don't know who either of you are."

"Unfortunately, due to the sensitivity of our mission, I cannot reveal our identities presently. Suffice it to say, the safety of the galaxy depends upon your assistance. We are aware of Remnant activity in an unknown remote location. We believe they are searching for an ancient weapon. It is our hope that you will be able to provide us with inside information regarding the Remnant's movements. The New Republic will see that you are duly compensated for your efforts."

"Duly compensated?" I hope I made that sound as incredulous as I intended it. They can't be serious. The Jedi are peacekeepers, negotiators. They do not engage in this kind of activity. Now I'm being bribed for information. "Exactly what kind of compensation do you think would be due?"

"Sufficient to provide for your needs for the rest of your natural life."

"You can't be serious!" This is ridiculous. What is going on here? They lure me in with clumsy attempts to probe for an informant, force me into hiding, and entrap AND bribe me in their scheme to allegedly save the New Republic from the Remnant. Something's missing. "What aren't you telling me?"

The one called Dais answers. "What we're not telling you is that if we do not get the information we need soon, everyone you ever knew will be dead before the next season."

Fear. There is fear in his eyes. Jedi don't fear. But he is definitely telling the truth. I knew there was something big here. What is it? Once they get what they need, I'll never hear from them again. I want a part of this. I'm not letting them go without me. "No."

"No?"

"I will not be bullied into helping you. If you knew about me, you should have realized that."

"I am sorry for our behavior, but please understand it was necessary to confront you alone." The shorter one apologizes, sincerely.

"Oh, I believe you. And I plan on helping you out. But we do this on my terms."

"And what are those terms?" Dais asks.

"First, you will tell me your names. Anonymity is a luxury you can't have with me. Second, whatever you know, you let me in on it. I can be discrete, but not if I don't have all the information myself. And finally, wherever you're going, whatever it is you're up to, I'm coming with you." If this is as serious as they claim, then these demands can be negotiated.

"Out of the question. Come master, we'll find another informer." The older one called the younger one 'master'? That's something new.

"I suppose the lives of everyone you know isn't all that important." The wry smile on my face is well worth the sting it causes them.

"You're not coming along, Aster." Who does he think he is, my father? "It's far too dangerous. Besides, if Asterella Nemur were suddenly traveling with us, we'd be far too high profile for either of our safeties."

"Listen, if the Remnant is up to even a fraction of the scale you're implying, there'll be so many checkpoints it'll make your heads spin. I could probably get you a location, but what good is that to you? Your timetable is expiring, quickly, and I'm your best bet, whatever it is you're looking for. Now, are you going to let me in or not?"


	4. Chapter 3: A Surprise Visit

CHAPTER 3: A Surprise Visit

Nandooith. A planetary system comprising a forest giant planet, class two rings, and 7 dead moons. Located in the farthest reaches of the outer rim, only a few parsecs away from the Ordan Nebula. The vast overgrowth of floral life is frequently bombarded by meteors drawn from somewhere in the Ordan Nebula. This bombardment seems to keeep the plant life in check. The meteors also provide additional mineral nourishment for those plants. This is the alleged resting place for the Frah-Zhahan Codex. And it is that allegation that has brought the attention of the Restored Imperial Navy.

Of course, the presently unenlightened still have the audacity to refer to us as the Remnant. We are no longer scattered, unorganized, lost. We are united, strong. And once we have the Codex, we will be unstoppable. At least, that is what Emperor Calmir assures me.

What an enigma, Emperor Calmir. He is so unlike Emperor Palpatine, yet both were great leaders of men. He promoted me to Admiral and gave me charge in this space station to oversee the search of Nandooith.

Sadly, the search has not gone well. The constant meteor activity seems drawn to the planet's gravity. It continually changes the landscape and severely hinders our search efforts. If we only knew what we were looking for. Weeks upon weeks of fruitless searching in endless, ever changing jungles. And it's for these reasons, I fear, that Emperor Calmir himself has decided to pay us a visit.

I look out the window here on the bridge. His Super Star Destroyer, flanked by two star destroyers, draws ever closer. He is coming closer. What is it that he wants? Does he think I've failed him? He'll probably want my head. And that smile of his. His charming, disarming, wicked smile. He would have the same smile at a carnival as he would at an execution. There's something sinister in his smile. Just thinking about it gives me chills.

"Admiral."

My commanding lieutenant's voice snaps me out of my trance. I see his reflection in the glass, standing behind my own. I acknowledge him with a slight nod. Pleasantries, formalities. All the pomp of the old Empire is still exhibited. A comfort. Probably a ploy of the Emperor's to inspire familiarity. It's working. Morale in the Restored Empire is up, overall. Our long, unsuccessful mission is probably wearing down the morale of my troops. Is that the reason he's coming?

I make the long, slow walk down to Docking Bay One. Thousands of troopers, soldiers, and officers stand in glorious presentation of arms, an Imperial show of strength. All this to impress our mysterious new leader. Still, I expect he would give the same smile he always does. I wonder what would impress this man.

I stand at the end of the avenue between ranks of armored stormtroopers. I appear to be standing at attention, a shining example to all those under me. If I truly were an example, these men would be quaking in their boots. I wish I could. Paralysis through terror. I'm scared stiff.

Though the docking bay opening I see a procession worthy of the Emperor. Scores of TIE fighters in perfect formation escort the Lambda class shuttle carrying the Emperor and his entourage. I can do nothing but wait while I watch it approach, drawing my fate ever closer.

The various squadrons break away from the formation as they continue to approach my station. The lambda shuttle's wings fold as it enters and lands in its designated place.

I try to move my legs. Jelly. My stomach churns. Every instinct in my body screams at me to run and hide. Now I'm willfully trying to walk down a path that will undoubtedly lead to my execution. Somehow, my feet carry me step by step towards the awaiting shuttle.

I stop at the designated spot. Once I've reached it, someone inside the shuttle begins lowering the ramp. I bow my head and drop to one knee. Protocol. Habit. Pomp. I might as well have a vibro-ax hanging over my neck. The ramp extends completely.

The feet of five individuals descend the ramp. Emperor Calmir and his four Ramirs, his Apprentices. The first faces I see belong to Isis and Osiris. Isis' ice blue eyes seem to pierce through my soul. I'm chilled just looking at him. How the Emperor keeps that monster in check, I'll never know. And Osiris. A black blindfold covers his unseeing eyes, but that doesn't stop him from looking right at me. I'm afraid he might be able to see me better than anyone.

Behind those two are Kael and Sett. Kael doesn't seem to be walking. I can see her feet hovering mere centimeters above the ground. I don't know if anyone's even seen her face. She always wears this mask, beautiful yet haunting. Towering over all the others is Sett, his face covered by dark violet and black tattoos covering battle scars that run deep into his face. I could swear I saw his skin slither and move across his cheek.

And standing in the midst of all of them is the Emperor himself. Adorned in splendid battle armor, he looks like an Emperor. His smile is warm and welcoming. I'm going to die.

"Admiral We'Sel, you may rise." More protocol. I obey. What else could I do? Disobey him? Disobey, and destroy any chance I might have to save myself. Perhaps I can salvage this mess. Standing I face his smiling face.

"It is my sincerest pleasure to welcome you're Excellency to Nandooith Station." Yet more protocol.

"Perspiration, Admiral? Does my visit trouble you so?" I was right. I am going to die. I might as well die with grace.

"Of course not, you're Excellency." I lie.

"Thousands of ships are combing the sector for buried treasure, Admiral, and I stop here…" What does he know? Does he know more than I do? Am I about to be executed for something I'm ignorant of?

"I assure you, we are using every available resource to-" He raised his hand. A subtle gesture made profound by his presence. No more protesting. No more objections. Here is where he pronounces sentence.

"Admiral, cease this pretense. It is time to restore the Imperial hierarchy. Mine is the glory of the Empire, and you will stand by my side. Grand Moff We'Sel."

Grand Moff? Did he just say Grand Moff? I've just been promoted? How did this happen?

While I was pondering this turn of events, I notice that Emperor Calmir is laughing and passing me by. I double pace to catch up with him.


End file.
